The meal at length having been concluded, Sam Bins took them to the stable and exhibited a pair of fine saddle-horses.
"Yo' fellahs know how to ride, ob course," he said, with a huge grin.
"Not I," responded Fenton, decidedly, as the others nodded. "Never was on a horse in my life."
Sam Bins was profoundly astonished.
"Then I wouldn't advise yo' to try either of dese," he said, rather scornfully. "Dey's got a lot ob spirit—dey has."
Fenton laughingly assured him that he wouldn't.
The rest of the day was spent in arranging their rooms. Dave and Sam took one, Tom and Dick another, while Bob Somers used a smaller one at the western end.
Since leaving their homes in Wisconsin, they had been almost constantly traveling, and the whole of the previous night was spent on the cars. This, with the journey on the stage-coach, had fatigued them greatly. But in spite of eyes that persisted in blinking, they bravely kept at work until their belongings were arranged to suit them.
Fenton, the city boy, had a wholesome respect for firearms, and the Ramblers, as they exhibited their brightly polished shotguns and rifles, filled him with apprehension.
"I'd be afraid of my life to handle one of those things," he admitted, candidly. "You see," he grinned, "I never had any occasion to use 'em in New York. But there are two things I've learned pretty well out here—sailing a boat and handling a canoe—what's the matter with taking a sail day after to-morrow?" he rattled on. "The pater has a good boat, the 'Dauntless,' and, if you like, we'll explore Promontory and Hemlock Islands. They camp out there once in a while. Tom Sanders and Jim Havens, the fellows I spoke about, are over there now."